Just A Little Bit Crazy
by littlefishbigpond81
Summary: After eighth grade graduation, Quinn's parents host a celebratory pool party and barbecue at their house! All the eighth graders, which include some familiar faces, are invited... what sort of things will happen? Finchel... rated T just in case : R&R!
1. Pre Party Worrying

**A/N: Hi! Thank you for reading my first ever Glee fic! I'm so super psyched for this story. Just so you know, it _could_ be considered a little AU, only because I'm not really sure when Rachel and Finn met for the first time. Oh well. It's not really important when they meet now, but in later chapters. Basically all you need to know for this chapter is that Rachel's class (which includes all of our favorite characters!) has just graduated from the eighth grade... **

**Rachel POV**

I never thought that graduating from the eighth grade could be so frightening.

Not the commencement ceremony, of course. No, that went off without a hitch. My rendition of "Graduation," by Vitamin-C, was amazing at the least. But that was two hours ago, and the warm, fuzzy feeling I normally get from performing is long gone. Now, I'm just super nervous about the _after-party_.

Quinn Fabray, a.k.a. the meanest, prettiest girl in my class, is holding a pool party and barbecue at her house to celebrate us leaving middle school. I've heard that her parents forced her to invite all the kids from our grade, not just her select friends. I can totally believe that she would try to pull a fast one and only have her… _posse_ over. Yes, it disgusts me. But what can I do about it? Absolutely nothing. Which is why I have resorted to my low rung on the social ladder until my talent and star potential are fully realized by my peers, and I am accepted by all.

However, currently, I am clinging to my seatbelt in the back of my fathers' Volvo, trying to disappear. The last thing I want to happen at the party is for my classmates to have a chance to criticize my performance at the graduation, or my navy blue one-piece bathing suit, or anything else, when I get to Quinn's house. (Criticism knocks me down a lot, mostly when it's about something I can't change, like how well I did singing or how hideous this bathing suit is.) I especially don't want to go to this party _because_ of Quinn. I'm sure she doesn't _really_ mean to, but most days at school, it seems like she goes out of her way to make my life a living hell. She's always coming up with new nicknames for me. In fact, because of the beautiful, sparkly dress I was wearing at the graduation this morning, she called me RuPaul. That's a new one, and I'm surprised she even knows who RuPaul is, since theatricality doesn't seem to be in her day-to-day repertoire, or even in her vocabulary.

But I digress. Here I am, clutching my seatbelt for dear life. I'm absolutely miserable.

"Rachel, sweetie, are you all right?" my father asks me, drumming on the steering wheel.

"I wish. I'm not feeling very confident about this dumb party," I reply. "My classmates aren't very mature when it comes to talent."

"Oh, we know, darling," my other father replies from the passenger seat in front of me. "It was the same way for us when we were your age. No one ever appreciated a finely upholstered chair, or the difference between a throw pillow and a lumbar pillow, when we were interested in that sort of thing."

"And look where we are now!" says my father excitedly, turning onto a side street. "Extremely successful interior designers. You'll get far, Rachel. Don't let what they think of you get in the way of your dreams." He smiles into the rearview mirror, and my other father turns around and smiles one of his biggest grins at me.

"Thanks, you guys," I reply half-heartedly. They always try their best to give me good advice and to help me make the best choices, but frankly, nothing is going to change how nervous and utterly freaked out I am about this ridiculous party.

**Finn POV**

It's puny.

It's pathetic how puny it is.

Why can't it just, you know, be, well, bigger? Especially when I need to live up to everyone's expectations?

Oh god. Listen to me. I really need to get a grip. I've been losing it lately. I mean, I didn't even study for my finals this semester. That's not like me. I mean, Puck gets away with it all the time, but I've always figured that studying pays off or something. I guess it doesn't though, 'cause I basically failed all my exams.

Whatever. I don't really care about grades. The only thing I really think about girls and football and stuff, so I'll get by in high school.

Which brings me back to the problem I'm having right now. If I wasn't graduating eighth grade, there would be no stupid party and I wouldn't need to wear swim trunks and I wouldn't be pissed at my junk.

I feel really stupid standing in front of my bathroom mirror with my swim trunks on, just staring. God. I'm so tall and I can't even have a big one? My body is screwed up.

Recently I've been going through what my mom calls a "Self-Identity Crisis." It makes no sense 'cause I know exactly who I am. But according to her, my body image is disrupted or distortoised or something by all the peer pressure I have going on around me. So, apparently, that's the reason why I've had a ball of toilet paper wadded up in my hands for five minutes and I'm seriously thinking about putting it down there to make me look bigg–

What am I thinking? Toilet paper will just melt in water! Then everyone'll see it floating around the pool and I'll be laughed at for it.

I'm screwed. Now that I think about it, girls have it so much easier 'cause if they wanna look bigger, all they have to do is buy a bikini with padding and–

… Wow. I really am the biggest idiot I've ever known.

My sports cup. It's perfect! All I have to do is wear it under my boxers and no one will know. I'm such a genius.

I fling the bathroom door open and throw on a random t-shirt as I search my room for my gym bag. Where is it? I swear I brought it home after practice yesterday…

Crap. No, I didn't. I stuck it in my locker 'cause I had a dumb dentist appointment after practice. That probably wasn't a good idea – my sweaty warm-ups and stuff are in there. Gross.

"Finn Hudson! You better get your keester down here in one minute or else we're gonna be late!" yells my mom from the bottom of the stairs.

"Mom," I say as I fly down the stairs, "do you think we'd have time to swing by the school? I left my gym bag in my locker and –"

"No, young man! We barely have enough time to get to the party on time!"

"But mom –"

"No! Get in the car!"

Crap. This is not gonna go good.

**Quinn POV**

I hate parties.

Well, not really. Just parties where my parents see an opportunity to preach their Republicanism to anyone who'll listen. And there aren't many people who listen.

I also hate parties that involve me inviting some seriously gross people to my _house_. To swim in my _pool_. To eat my food on my _plates_. I mean, it's not a party if everyone isn't happy, and I certainly won't be happy with them around.

However, my parents have bribed me with a raise in my allowance if I act like a good little hostess and help this party go on perfectly. They didn't say I had to do it happily, though.

"Quinny, hun," my mother says as I enter the kitchen to pick up yet _another_ tray of hors d'oeuvres, "wipe that frown off your face and replace it with a smile, please!"

"Sure, mom! Why not." I say under my breath sarcastically. The last thing I need is for my mother to tell my father that I'm acting like a spoiled brat. Then he'll get all pissed at me for being a drama queen and my raise will be revoked and then I'll really sulk. God, I can't stand my parents sometimes.

I walk outside to the patio, where our grill and tables are, and set down the ugly plastic tray of vegetables and dip. What really sucks about this party is that the majority of it will be outside, where the mosquitoes are going to attack me. They always do. I mean, sure, the patio and the gardens around the pool actually look nice, but that isn't going to distract from the itching and the scratching I'll end up doing tonight. And that is _not_ attractive.

Which reminds me: I have to go to my room to put my new bikini on before people get here. I'm planning on impressing Finn Hudson tonight with my awesome diving skills and gorgeous swimsuit, and then hopefully, when the time is right, we'll go to my room or the pool house and make out.

Now, I know what you're thinking. It's true; he _is_ pretty dumb and Neanderthal-ish. But he's really cute when he gets confused, and I think we could be an awesome couple in high school. One of those "star quarterback and head cheerleader" couples. I've had a crush on him for about 3 months now, and I think he might like me, too. I hope so – I really can't afford to walk into high school on the first day without a guy on my arm. It might make my reputation bad.

Besides, I think we could complement each other really well. I'm cunning, and he's dopey, which would make him look smart for dating me, and make _me_ look smart because he's so dumb, if we dated. I'm short and he's tall, which would make him look really _really_ tall, and make _me_ look awesome for being able to hook someone who's twice my size, if we dated. Yeah, this is gonna work out, I can tell.

I sigh and open the door to my room. It's not very big, but it's good enough for me. I jump on my bed and just lay there for a minute while I think of all the ways I could make Finn want to kiss me tonight. No matter how much host-y stuff I have to do, I am promising myself here and now that I am going to get him to kiss me and like it.

"Quinny! Santana and Brittany are here!" my mom yells from the stairs.

"Send them up, please!" I yell back.

Tonight is gonna be a great night, I know it.

**A/N: I hope you liked it! Reviews are appreciated but not required - I'd be a hypocrite if I said that you HAVE to review every fic you read... believe me, I don't always do that either!**

**Thanks again for reading! - littlefish**


	2. Obviously Acceptable, Right?

**A/N: Wow. Loooong chapter. Sorry! I dunno, maybe it's _too_ long - I hope it doesn't put you off my story, especially since it's _all_ in Rachel POV. She can be really hard to write! Crap. I'm making excuses... please tell me if the chapter is too (fill in the blank). But I PROMISE, next chapter is gonna be all (or mostly!) Finn. YAY! I luv him...sigh...**

**Also, thanks to gleekfreak123, Bluesdj, Finchelroxursox, MaroonFox, TEAMFINNMEMBER6178, and caityjane for reviewing last chapter! Each review really made my day :)**

**Anyways! Here it is!**

Rachel POV

Absolutely _everyone_ from my class is here. Even that creepy Jacob Ben Israel kid, who moved here from Ann Arbor. He makes me feel really uncomfortable most of the time, especially when he stares at me during science. In fact, he was so distracted by me once that he poured bleach onto his science project instead of water, and the whole plant died almost instantly. It was really sad.

But still. Everyone is here. And I am standing around with my two fathers in my cover-up and bathing suit waiting for someone to come say hi. That's not happening.

You see, for some reason, people don't really want to be best friends with me. Maybe it's because of my talent. I mean, I can totally understand if the thought of being constantly overshadowed by my abilities makes you want to steer clear of me. But that's utterly ridiculous! I'm not going to constantly brag about how well I can sing and act, and I certainly won't _try_ to make you feel inferior if I spontaneously start singing in class or in the hallways, which I've been known to do. I'm a good friend! I'll make you cookies on your birthday and shower you with presents on Christmas _even though I'm Jewish_!

Do I sound desperate? Maybe I am. I mean, I have one or two friends who I talk to in class and sit with at lunch (and if I didn't have them, I'd seem like a _big_ loser, which I refuse to let happen), but they don't ask me to hang out, and never jump at an opportunity to pair up with me for projects, which leaves me thinking that maybe they don't really like me.

However, that doesn't change the fact that I'm standing on the patio by myself while my fathers talk with other parents and everyone else has someone to talk to. I have to be brave here, right?

So, I walk over to Tina Cohen-Chang. She's one of the people who talks to me and lets me sit with her and Artie Abrams at lunch. Though I don't really agree with her sense of style, she's very kind and soft-spoken. Right now, she's standing near the pool next to Artie, who's sort of aimlessly wheeling himself back in forth on the bricks in his wheelchair. He's sort of nice to me too, though I can tell he gets irritated if I talk about Broadway or Barbara Streisand for too long during lunch. I can't help it though – why should I talk about anything else?

"Hi, Tina, Artie," I say confidently.

"Oh, h-h-hey, Rachel," Tina stutters. I can't tell if she's happy to see me or not, so I just go with the former and hope for the best.

"Are you guys excited for summer?" I'm trying really hard to have a conversation, but Artie just keeps staring off into the water, and Tina just keeps staring at him.

"Not really. School is the only place where people talk to me. Without it, I'm friendless," Artie replies cynically.

"That's n-n-not true. You have m-m-me, dummy!" Tina giggles, smacking Artie's arm and bringing him back to the present.

He laughs along with her. "You're right. Sorry, I've just been really bummed about leaving middle school. High school is freaking me out, you know?"

I nod my head in agreement. "I know exactly what you mean. I have no idea what sort of musicals they perform in high school. I mean, what if they put on High School Musical? I'll probably puke on the stage and then die."

Tina and Artie stare at me for a moment, and then we all break out in laughter together. Maybe I was wrong about this party. I think it could be a potentially enjoyable experience as long as I hang out with Artie and Tina.

-~:~-

Now, Tina and I are sitting in the shallow end of the pool, talking about the good old days. Believe me, I know I sound like an old coot, but the years we spent in elementary school really _were_ the good old days. We've reminisced about the sandbox, the swing set, our third grade teacher Mrs. Murphy who brought us ice cream on the days before vacations, the mean librarian, Mrs. Stanley, who ended up marrying the even more mean fifth grade teacher, Mr. Morris, and all of our favorite field trips.

"But, I mean, I don't know why or how we got all split up. We were such a close class," I say, playing with my ponytail over my shoulder.

"Yeah, I-I-I know. Especially in k-k-kindergarten." Tina agrees with me about a lot of things, like the fact that Quinn Fabray needs a reality check, and how Puck needs all the air from his skull replaced with an actual brain.

"I just wish that our peers weren't so narrow-minded as to believe that popularity–"

"AAAHH!" _Booosshhh! _Tina and I look immediately towards the deep end, where Puck has just flooded the pool area with a massive cannon ball, soaking Quinn and her friends.

As soon as Puck surfaces, Santana Lopez, one of Quinn's followers, screams at him from her position in a lounge chair by the edge of the pool.

"Puck! You just got me soaked, you asshole!" Most onlookers would believe that Santana was really upset with Puck. But I know better, and can see through her paper-thin guise. She really just wants an excuse to yell at Puck so he can yell back at her and create some kind of sexual tension. It's ridiculous, but it works, much to my dismay. She's just too good with guys.

"Whatever, Santana. You know you look good soaked," Puck says in a disgustingly seductive way, waggling his eyebrows at her as she glares at him. "Finn, dude! You think you can beat that?"

My gaze immediately snaps to the diving board. Finn Hudson is standing there, shirtless and amazing and god-like, and I _actually_ have a montage in my head. (God. I've been watching too much TV.) This is basically what it looks like:

_When we were in preschool, Finn would constantly ask me to make sandcastles in the sandbox with him at recess, but he'd accidentally knock all my sandcastles over. If I cried, he'd pat my back and tell me that I could make some more._

_ In fourth grade, Finn broke the model of the solar system that I had spent three days working on for our group project, and then stayed up until midnight repairing it the night before it was due. Ridiculously, of course, he called me at 12:04 to let me know that it was done and that he was sorry, and in my sleepy stupor I hung up on him, but not before letting him know that it was all going to be okay._

_ In sixth grade, when we finally left elementary school and went to Lima Middle School, Finn was dared by some seventh graders to knock all of my library books and textbooks out of my arms as I walked to class on the first day of school. He did it, of course, but after his "friends" turned the corner, he helped me gather the books back together and whispered a hasty "Sorry" before catching up with them as fast as he could._

_ On the last day of eighth grade, Finn and Puck and a few other jock-jerks snapped rubber bands at the back of my head during last period because I told the principal about their plans that I'd overheard to skip class and go to the park on the other side of town. They had basically been on lock down the entire day, with all faculty members staring them down in every class._

"Yeah, dude, I'm gonna _own_ you!" Finn yells as he runs the length of the diving board and jumps super high, landing with what is commonly known as a "can opener" in the water. I'm brought back to reality as the splash reaches Tina and me, and all I can do is stare at him as he comes back to the surface. Wow, his hair looks really good wet…

"R-r-rachel? Are you s-s-still here?" Tina asks me, waving her hand in front of my face, as if I had just been spaced out, staring at the most amazing guy ever. Which, for the record, I was _not_.

-~:~-

"Oh my g-g-gosh, it smells soooo good!" Tina says ahead of me. We're standing in line for the barbecue, and she's right. It smells reeeeeeeeally good.

After the diving competition between Finn and Puck, which did_ not_ involve me drooling over Finn's amazing, well, everything, Artie came over to us and complained that he was really hungry. I was less than willing to get out of the pool, of course, as it gave Puck and his jock-jerk friends a better chance of being able to push me into the pool. However, Tina was also starving, and I have to admit that I was a little hungry, too.

The food was your standard barbecue fare, with some salads and brownies, and of course, cheeseburgers and hot dogs. Normally, because of the rigorous diet and exercise program I have myself on to maintain my starlet-like physique, I would steer clear of the meat (and also because of my religion and only being able to eat _clean_ foods), but, apparently, Puck's mom brought some kosher burgers and hot dogs, so I could eat those if I wanted to. And, though I'd never admit it out loud, my weaknesses in life are musical movie marathons on TCM and a big, juicy cheeseburger.

"So, Artie," I say, "what are you gonna –"

"Finn, stop it!" I hear an annoying voice squeal. I look to see what's going on over by the pool, where Quinn is trying to split up a water gun fight between Finn and Puck that's getting her soaked. She's trying, and failing, to pull the gun out of Finn's hands, and he is obviously basking in the attention from an obviously attractive girl who obviously likes him and obviously wants him to know without it being too obvious. Oh, listen to me. I sound like a broken record. But still. It disgusts me to watch her throw herself at him like that, especially since she can have any guy she wants without even trying. It's not fair that girls like her, with their snappy comebacks and shiny hair and tiny butts, get what they want all the time.

Wait a second. Finn looks like he's starting to get pissed off at her. I don't blame him – she's basically taking all his fun away, and it's not like he did anything wrong.

"Quinn, what's your problem? Chill," he says, looking down on her and effortlessly pulling the water gun out of her grip. Quinn starts pouting and accepts defeat by going back over to Santana and Brittany and the rest of _them_. And then, the unthinkable happens.

He looks at me.

Omigosh.

Well, it's actually one of those accidental looks where you just look up and connect eyes with someone. But that someone is me! He holds his gaze for longer than is comfortable, and eventually he gives me a smoldering half-smile. At this point, I would give up all my talent and wardrobe to know what he's thinking inside that wonderful head of his…_sigh…_

Crap. I think I just sighed out loud.

"It's really too bad, you know?" Artie's voice comes from behind me.

"What?" I say, back on planet Earth again.

"It's too bad that Finn went to the dark side. He could've been a genuinely nice person." Artie shakes his head as he says this, reminding me that before Artie's accident, he and Finn used to be the best of friends in elementary school.

"I d-d-don't think he's r-r-really ch-ch-changed _that_ much, though," Tina says.

"Yeah, I think you're right, Tina. He can't have changed into a _complete_ jerk," I insist. Underneath all the jockiness and cockiness, Finn is definitely still an acceptable person. Sure, it seems as though he's been corrupted by peer pressure, but I'm sure he's still the same kind person he's always been.

Right?

**A/N: Thanks for reading! As always, don't feel obligated to review... I'd be the biggest hypocrite _ever_ if I demanded a review from every reader! And also, if this chapter seems off or not-right in any way (as I'm thinking it is), please don't hesitate to tell me! Thanks a lot! - littlefish**


	3. Roll With The Punches

**A/N: Okay, so maybe last chapter wasn't really all that long... it was just really long to write. Thanks to everyone who stuck with it... Rachel can be a pain, but I love her to death!**

**I am so psyched for this Finn chapter - he is so much fun to write! Ladidadida, ho hum pig's bum... not much to say about this chapter... However, I do love how righteous Finn can be in the face of adversity... or something like that :) Is it bad to say that I love what I wrote? Ah well, I hope not! (Btw, watch out for some language in this chapter, if you know what I mean.. normally, I try to steer clear of swearing, but Finn seems like he wouldn't care so much about that.)**

**Thanks to TEAMFINNMEMBER6178, WMHSCheerioBrittany, chelle2911, gleekfreak123, TayRae41, MaroonFox, VoiceInMyHead, anonymous, Bluesdj and gpeach6 for reviewing... personal replies are headed your way!**

**Here it is! **

Finn POV

Quinn can be such a hard-ass, you know? I mean, Puck and I were only playing a friendly game of Water Terminator, and she just had to get in the middle of it. Puck thinks it was 'cause I wasn't paying her enough attention, and when I asked him why she should care, he said it was 'cause she likes me.

I guess I'm a little flattered, if that's true, but honestly, Quinn isn't really my type. She's whiney and needy, and she can be really loud, too. I'm not really into high maintenance chicks and stuff.

Anyways, Water Terminator is over now and Quinn's moping over with her friends and me and Puck are about to dig into some seriously delicious food. Still, I haven't started eating yet. I can't help thinking about, well, _you know_, the problem I was having earlier.

"Dude," I say, nudging Puck, who's about to eat his kosher burger, "do you think girls ever notice how, uh, _big_ you are? Or do they really not care?"

"Man, do I look like a chick? How should I know?" He rolls his eyes and picks up his burger again.

"But, c'mon," I say. He huffs and puts his burger back on his plate. "Don't you ever think about that kind of stuff?"

"I guess," he replies with a shrug, and leans against the table we're standing next to. "Look, man, the way I see it is that chicks'll only notice if there's either nothing there, or it's too big it's not humanly possible. Y'know, fake."

I can see why he says that. "Yeah, that makes sense. Hey, are you going to football camp this summer?"

"Uh, duh, dude. I'd be stupid not to. High school football _makes_ you. Not going to football camp will _break_ you."

I nod as he rambles on about more football stuff. Don't get me wrong, I love football. I'm just kinda freaked about _high school_ football. I'll be playing against frickin' _seniors_, and most seniors around here work on their family's dairy farms. Basically what I'm saying is that they're _huge_. And even though I'm tall, that doesn't mean I'm buff or anything. I'm starting to think that going out for varsity first thing in the fall would be just a little bit crazy. Maybe I'll try out for JV first.

As I've been thinking about my football problem and my, well, _other_ problem, I've noticed Quinn and her dumb friends whispering in their lounge chairs like they want everyone to know what they're talking about. It's pretty quiet and stuff at first, but then Brittany flat-out points straight at Rachel Berry, who's standing in line for food. Uh-oh. This does _not_ look good.

Quinn pulls Brittany's hand down and checks to make sure no one saw. I pull a smart move and look away. (Y'know, if I think about it, this is the first time I've been smart enough to think to do that. Cool.) When I look back, Quinn is slowly getting out of her chair and the rest of her friends are following her to the food line. Thank god. I thought maybe she'd try to freak out Rachel or something like she does at schoo–

Wait. Quinn is walking up to Rachel, who's just getting her kosher burger (she's Jewish, like Puck, so they have to eat, like, kosher burgers or something. I wonder if they taste any different…). I lean closer to what's going on, and I can kinda hear Puck stopping mid sentence and saying, "Dude, dude, personal space, man."

"Rachel. That's a nice bathing suit you've got," Quinn says. I don't think she's being nice about it.

"Thank you. Yours is nice, too," Rachel replies, all Rachel Berry-like. I guess you could call it polite, but its obvious that Rachel knows something's going on.

"You think? I got it last week, and I hope it – oops! My bad." From what I can tell, Quinn has just knocked Rachel's plate out of her hand and onto the ground. On purpose.

"Oh my god," I say to myself. I hate to say it, but Quinn's being a real bitch today.

Rachel goes all stiff and says to Quinn, "That's okay. I'll just get another."

"That sounds like a real good idea. Daddy?" Quinn asks her dad, who's standing by the grill (and, lucky for Quinn, missed what just happened.) "Are there any kosher burgers left for Rachel?"

Her dad checks the grill and replies, "Nope, sorry."

Rachel's mouth kinda opens a little bit, but then closes. She raises her chin and says, "That's fine. The salads look good."

I can't believe it. Everyone knows that Rachel's Jewish – she reminds us every Hanukkah and Rosh Hashanah and every other Jewish holiday – and that she can't eat certain foods. Quinn must have planned to knock Rachel's food out of her hands when there was no kosher stuff left. She really _is_ a bitch.

I don't know why, but I'm getting really pissed at Quinn. Rachel did nothing to her or to anyone else, and all she does is make fun of her all the time. Plus, all Quinn ever does is get in the middle of other people's business. I wanna get back at Quinn for her mean-ness and bitchy-ness, but I don't know how.

Then it hits me – Puck is Jewish, too.

"Dude, are you gonna eat that?" I ask him, pointing to his burger as he stares at Santana, who has gone back to her lounge chair.

"What? Oh, yeah," he replies, reaching for his plate.

"No? Okay," I say, taking his plate and rushing over to Rachel. She looks kinda surprised to see me standing in front of her with a plate of food, and I have to admit that I'm surprised I'm doing this, too. But I clear my throat anyways.

"Rachel," I say really loud, or at least, loud enough so Quinn will hear me. I wait until she turns around to continue talking to Rachel.

"I saw what happened to your food, and I know how you can only eat, like, kosher stuff or something. Puck hasn't touched his kosher burger, so you can have his, if you want." I add a smile at the end, just in case, you know, I'm scaring her or something.

Rachel stares at me for, literally, a minute, and I start to feel really awkward standing there, a plate of food in my hand, looking down at her looking up at me. I'm about to go back to Puck when she _finally_ says, "Uh, um, yeah, thanks…" Taking the food from my hand, she smiles up at me in a shy kind of way, and just walks away.

Wow. Did I really just do that?

"Dude! What's wrong with you?" Puck says as he comes over to me. "Did you really just do that?"

"Yeah. I mean, Rachel doesn't deserve that. No one does. Quinn's such a bitch, you know?"

Puck stares at me and then says, "And you're such a dick! I don't deserve my food to be taken from me and given to some charity case. That was the _last_ kosher burger, dude!"

"It's okay, man," I say, giving him a big thump on the back. "I hear the salad looks good."

-~:~-

Three hot dogs and four brownies later, as the sun is starting to go down, me and Puck and the guys are playing football in the backyard. I'm thinking about going out for quarterback in high school, so that's the position I've got right now. I've been playing QB since I was ten, so it's second, um, whatever to me now. I guess you could call it going through the motions, though, since my head's not really in the game right now.

All I'm thinking about is Rachel. God, no, not _like that_. Not even close. I'm only thinking about how we used to be pretty good friends in elementary school, and how middle school changed that. As I throw the ball to Puck, I laugh to myself about that one time in second grade, I was pushing Rachel on the swings, and when she told me to push harder, I pushed her out of the swing. When I went to go see if she was okay, I thought she was crying because her body was shaking, but she was actually laughing. I punched her in the shoulder for that.

And there was this other time in fourth grade; when I had my tenth birthday party, Rachel was the only girl there. Puck decided that we should have a race down the path that was by my house, leading to the park. Everyone took off, but since my birthday's in early April, there were still puddles and ice and stuff. Rachel was pretty far ahead, but Puck was in the front when he fell on a patch of ice. Rachel helped him up while the rest of us sped past, and I'm pretty sure he didn't thank her, but it was still a cool thing she did.

Rachel has always been reasonable, as my mom would say, and she really knows what she wants out of life, as my mom would _also_ say. I don't really know why we fell apart. She's always been nice to me, and pretty much everyone else in our class, even though most of us give her crap for the way she is.

Huh. I never thought that making fun of her was wrong before. But after seeing what Quinn did to her, it makes me wanna stop.

I guess I also never thought of Rachel as pretty before today. But when she looked up at me earlier, she kinda caught me off guard – she's _really_ pretty. I wonder why I never noticed that about her before. I mean, she's never been ugly, but this really blew me away or something.

I feel so pathetic. I can remember the elementary school days when Rachel was my best friend, and now, I know nothing about her. How crappy of me is that?

"Dude!" Puck yells to me from the other side of the yard. "Wake up, man!"

I look to where he's pointing (next to my feet), and I see the football right next to me as Matt is running full on towards my gut! Luckily, I get out of that mess, throw the ball to Puck and dodge Matt, but I really need to get my head back in the game.

I'll catch up with Rachel later, I end up deciding. I owe that much to her.

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you stick with this fic - also, I think that next chapter will be more "mean Quinn", so if you liked that in the first chapter, yays for you! :) I like reviews, but they are not mandatory - gosh, I'd be a huge hypocrite if I said they were... thanks again for reading! - littlefish**


	4. Author's Apology and Other Bad News

AHHHHHH! I am so sorry!

Normally, I get super pissed whenever I'm following a fic and the author just drops off the face of the earth for seventy zillion years – then it also makes me mad when they decide to post a crap chapter to make up for it, or just post an author's note instead!

I AM THE BIGGEST HYPOCRITE EVER!

To all my dedicated readers/reviewers (and to those few who are just curious as to what this fic is about and why it was updated)… here is my apology:

Pretty much every summer, FanFiction becomes my WORLD… like, it's the only thing I think about, and it's also the only thing I want to occupy my time with… yet, MotherDearest doesn't approve of me staying up till 1:30 in the morning writing/reading/reviewing… (I COMPLETELY disagree with her judgment, by the way.)

However, MotherDearest also has the power to take my lovely dial-up away (I have this weirdo connector thingy for my telephone line to connect to my Mac), which explains the absence… the long, long, long absence…

What makes things worse is that I have completely neglected "Just A Little Bit Crazy" to do other summer-like things (most of which [in fact, ALL] do _not_ include hanging out with my best friend because she is too busy hanging out with some other chick who thinks she can move here from Arizona and take MY BEST FRIEND away from me and change her from a sweetheart to a slut! Sorry, I'm really bitter…) aaaand I haven't written more chapters since… *facepalm*.

And, to top off this lovely, excuse-filled author's note, I am leaving for Europe in less than two days. I'm totally psyched, but I feel wicked guilty about not having finished this fic before I left… oh so guilty!

I never wanted this to happen, and it did. Can you all ever forgive me? Pweez?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed for last chapter… It's nice to hear that everyone likes this fic for the most part…

Again, I'm so sorry for the darned delay and my bitter rant and the even longer delay after that…

Your Super Duper Sorry Author-Person,

littlefishbigpond81


	5. Jump In

**A/N: I'm baaaack! I'm so sorry for making this what could very well be the most stretched out fic on FanFiction... it's not fair to you, and it's not fair to my story, either - I hope you don't think so, but I feel like I honestly pulled this out of my butt and posted it. How crappy is that? (Wow, I just realized how much that sounded like a bad joke... Oops). This chapter could be considered a filler, but it could_ also_ be considered an attempt to regain a smattering of an audience... possibly. Nope, I think it's a filler. Besides, the _really_ good stuff is coming next chapter, which is also the last! :'( I do love this story, but it has definitely taken too long to get to the climax, so unfortunately, we'll be leaving the story at the high point. (Maybe that _is _a fortunate thing!)**

**But don't worry about the end, if you are! That doesn't come for a few more days! Let's just focus on the now... :)**

**Quinn POV**

How dare she act all innocent and victim-ly when _I'm_ the one who's been hurt! Rachel Berry doesn't deserve to have Finn's attention! I do!

Ugh! Why does this sort of thing always happen to me? I mean, whenever I make plans, _something_ gets in the way. Like that one time at cheerleading camp last summer, I was _so_ ready to be made Spirit Queen when Jenna Broadman just _had_ to steal the crown! Maybe it wasn't a good idea for me to put bug spray in her moisturizer afterwards, but who cares? She _knew_ that I wanted Spirit Queen soooo badly! How could she just ruin my plans like that?

I'm a nice person. I mean, yeah, a lot of people probably don't believe that, but it's true. Way true. I recycle my bottles and cans and paper, I listen to my parents (most of the time) and I go to church every frickin' Sunday! So I obviously don't deserve a crappy, LimaLoser boyfriend! Finn is not a LimaLoser! Do you see where I'm going with this?

"Quinn?"

"WHAT?" I scream.

"Um," Brittany starts, "I just wanted to know if I could have your brownie…?"

"Whatever," I huff, crossing my arms and turning away. This pool party couldn't have been a bigger fail.

Rachel is sitting over with her loser friends. God help them. They are soooo desperate to look cool that they're actually laughing at something Artie said. I actually kinda feel bad for him and the goth girl, Tina. But not Rachel. She deserves everything she gets.

I'm soooo pissed right now. I can't believe that Finn would even talk to that showbiz freak, like he was trying to get even with me or something. Why on earth would he do that? I mean, doesn't he wanna kiss me? Of course he does, silly. But I just have to coax him into it. And if I can kill two birds with one stone and ultimately get Finn while making Rachel look even more ridiculous, I will be AMAZING.

Believe me, I'm not done with trying to humiliate her. I'll give her the summer to_ think_ that she's safe. But I will personally make sure that her entire high school experience will be close to a living hell once school starts.

Y'know, at first, this whole "problem" I had with Rachel was just a game, some kind of entertainment that, I'll admit, was kind of weak. But now, with Finn as the prize, it's personal, and I promise you: I… will… win.

**Rachel POV**

So Quinn just screamed. That can't be good.

I'm absolutely shocked that she would bring her petty behavior to a party where her classmates' parents are present. Absolutely juvenile. I don't know why, but I actually thought she had more class than to try to publicly humiliate me for all those people to see. Obviously, I was completely wrong.

I would have been extremely embarrassed had Finn not come to my rescue. He was so chivalrous! And he went out of his way to talk to me! Coming to this pool party was definitely worth the turmoil.

"Are y-y-you okay?" Tina asks me as we sat around a table to eat.

"Yeah, that was a pretty bitchy thing she did," Artie says.

"I'm completely fine," I reply as what I'm sure is a dreamy smile crawls onto my face.

"R-r-really? I would have b-b-been so emb-b-barrassed!" Tina exclaims.

"I think I would have been too," I begin, "if Finn hadn't been there." Tina gives me a knowing smile.

"Yeah, but I'm surprised he didn't get all klutzy and spill the burger on you," Artie says. The three of us laugh – Finn has spilled things while trying to be helpful more than once.

"That probably would have made the whole ordeal much worse," I agree. I lift my burger up to my mouth when it hits me, again – Finn _gave_ me this burger. A quick thought darts through my mind: Should I save it? No, that would be _way_ too creepy. Instead, I take a bite out of the burger, savor the fact that Finn is my hero, and sigh.

-~:~-

A while later, Tina's parents come over to our table and tell her that it's time for them to leave.

"J-j-just a little bit l-l-longer? P-p-please?" she asks.

"No, sweetheart, all the other parents are leaving. Besides, you have violin practice tomorrow morning," her mom replies.

Tina sighs. "S-s-sorry, you guys," she says wearily, and leaves. I turn to Artie.

"Well, that's alright. We can still –" I'm cut off by an obnoxious ring tone coming from Artie's pocket.

"Hold on," he says, giving me a somewhat guilty smile. "Hey, mom. Really? Come on. You know that's not… fine. Whatever." He snaps his phone shut. "I gotta go. Sorry, Rachel." And with that, he wheels himself to the front of the house.

I scoff at myself. How pathetic is that? In less than two minutes, I have become companionless. What the heck? I stare at the tabletop in dismay for what feels like forever, and then finally decide to do something. It's getting much darker outside, but Quinn's fancy pool is lighted, and I have nothing better to do. Before I can stop myself, I jump in.

**Finn POV**

No, no, not me… please, not me!

The bottle slows down a little bit, then a little more, and then almost comes to a stop. I close my eyes – I don't wanna see who gets to kiss Santana.

Someone wolf whistles, and a few girls start giggling. Oh no.

"Well, Puck," Quinn says from across the circle. "Into the closet you go!"

I open my eyes. The bottle is pointing at Puck, who's sitting next to me. Thank god. I seriously thought I was going to have to kiss Santana, who'd spun the bottle. I mean, yeah, I guess she's hot, but I have a feeling she'd try to stick her tongue all the way down my throat or something. Not my style.

Puck puts his arm around Santana's shoulder and says, "Well, hot stuff, you gonna show me how they do it in Mexico?" Of course, he gives her his dumb eyebrow waggle.

"I'm from Venezuela, dumbass," Santana replies, shrugging off his shoulder. Me and the other guys laugh at Puck's mistake as he flips us the bird and disappears into the closet with Santana.

"So," Quinn says, almost like she's looking at me. "We wait."

"Uh, yup," I reply. She makes me feel really weird. And not the good kind of weird. The really weird kind of weird… yeah. But not good.

We all just sit there for a while, waiting for the seven minutes to be over with. Then Quinn comes over to me and says, "Wanna go outside?"

Crap. I really don't want to. But if I don't, all the guys are gonna think I'm a wimp, or worse – a pussy. Besides, Quinn is considered hot. It would be really dumb of me to turn her down. Maybe the guys didn't hear her?

"Uh," I say, stalling, as I look over her shoulder. Sure enough, all the guys are looking at me with looks on their faces like I need to say yes. Crap.

I sigh, and then say slowly, "Sure."

There's a kinda half smile on her face as she takes my hand and leads me out to the patio. A few kids are still out here, mostly the unpopular ones. Some are sitting in a circle on the grass beyond the pool playing an elementary school hand game or something, and I think that the Jacob Ben Israel guy is taking pictures of random stuff around Quinn's house. That's really creepy.

Some movement in the pool catches my attention. Rachel Berry is floating in the deep end, looking up at the stars above her, I guess. That's when I remember that I'd decided that I'd talk to her tonight. Hmm…

"So, Finn," Quinn says, snapping me back to her. "I wanted to apologize about breaking up your water gun game with Puck earlier."

"That's okay," I say. I'm kind of distracted with thinking about how to ditch her without _really_ ditching her.

"No," she says, putting her hand on my arm and rubbing it. _That's_ weird. "It's not. I was really out of line, and…"

She just goes on and on about being rude earlier (and she _was_, but whatever) as I glance around, trying to find some inspiration for my escape plan. Everyone outside is still doing stuff… I just can't get over how weird that Jacob kid is… and what's up with his glasses?

That's it! "Oh crap!" I yell, cutting off Quinn (but I don't really care).

"What?" she asks, really surprised.

"I just remembered. I lost a contact in the pool hours ago." Wow. I'm actually lying. And I don't think it's obvious. Way to go, Finn!

"Huh? I didn't know you wore – "

"I'm gonna go look for it, okay?" I say, turning to jump in the pool.

"Want me to help?" she offers.

"No, no, that's fine. You might as well just go back in. It could take forever to find it. Bye!"

"Oh," Quinn replies like I just called her a smelly cow. "Whatever," she says over her shoulder as she stomps back inside. I shrug, give one glance to the pool, and jump in.

**A/N: Yup. Most definitely a filler. Oh well. You all have waited since June for a legit chapter, you can wait a little bit longer right? I'M JUST KIDDING! Honestly, I will crank out the last chapter as soon as I can. Thank you all so much for dealing with my not-very-reliable-ness. Review if you'd like to... not that I deserve it... but please please please don't feel obliged... I don't always review _every _chapter or fic that I read. :) - littlefish**


	6. Tonight

**A/N: Well, we've come to the end of a very long, three-month road! Who's happy? (I am :D) Though I love this fic to death, it needs to come to a close.**

**Thanks to MaroonFox, courixoxo, hungergameslaura31, and seriousglee for reviewing last chapter – I'm glad no one yelled at me! Yay!**

**Here it is! **_**Tonight**_**, the last chapter of Just A Little Bit Crazy!**

**Rachel POV**

The stars are absolutely gorgeous tonight. Lima, Ohio, is so far away from any big city that you can always see them on a clear night, but they're completely breathtaking right now. Maybe I'm only thinking of them as more breathtaking than usual because of the mushy feelings I still have about Finn… oh my gosh, he is amazing…

A door shuts. I glance up a little bit and see Quinn and Finn coming out of the house to the patio. That really painful, dreading pang goes off in my stomach as I realize that Quinn had announced earlier that a game of Spin the Bottle/Seven Minutes in Heaven was going to be played. Did _they_ kiss? In a closet? Oh no…

I don't want Quinn to see me eavesdropping on her conversation, so I gaze back up at the stars again, trying to calm myself. I had so many happy thoughts running through my head earlier, like me and Finn being the cutest couple in high school, Finn singing me to sleep (Does he sing well? Does he sing at all? I don't know), and a celebratory kiss between us after he gets the winning, um, whatever at the State Championships for football. But now, after seeing him and Quinn together, all I can think of is how different we are, and how unrealistic those daydreams are.

"Oh crap!" Finn yells. I wonder what that was about? Then I remember. Our destinies cannot be intertwined. There's no way for it to be like that. So, officially, anything he does or says or yells is no longer my business. Not that it ever really _was_, but whatever.

I feel like sinking myself.

Ugh.

But I just can't help it! Finn is saying something about contacts. Since when does he need contacts? Before I can try to remember him ever wearing glasses, a big splash of water over my head nearly drowns me. I come back up to the surface and see Finn's goofy, grinning face smiling at me.

"I don't have contacts," he says to me, a little bit mischievously.

I am so shocked. (I'm also coughing and sputtering, which I'm sure looks extremely attractive. Fantastic.)

"Um, hey, Finn." I can't get over his smile. I can't, I can't, and I won't. It's just so… Finn-like.

"Hey, Rach," he says, using a cute nickname that no one but my parents call me. Eep! "How's it goin'?" He also seems to be oblivious of the fact that he almost drowned me just barely, but that's okay. He's still amazing.

I sneeze from the water up my nose, then reply, "Pretty good. Haven't talked to you in at least a year," I add. He's not stupid, and I have a feeling that he can hear the hurt in my voice. I haven't forgotten about elementary school, and apparently, neither has he.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Middle school is weird like that, I guess." He doesn't look at me when he says this.

"Weird as in stereotypes are drilled into our heads and tend to destroy important friendships?" I ask, looking up at him.

"Um, yeah, I think so."

I can't help but give him a small smile. He has no idea what I mean. "It's okay, Finn, I don't blame you. The typical male tendency as boys progress in puberty is to put social order before genuine relationships." At this point, I am feeling so extremely nervous. I've never used big words and theories around guys before. In fact, I don't really talk to guys a lot. I hope I'm not freaking him out!

"Uh, yeah, I guess you're right," he replies, visibly confused. Ugh. I'm freaking him out. Maybe changing the subject will help.

"So, um, how've you been? I think the last time we talked was during that project on Hinduism."

"Oh, yeah, that was pretty hilarious," Finn laughs. Thank goodness I found a common ground!

The project really _was_ funny, though. For our assignment at the end of seventh grade, Finn had been painted blue and dressed in traditional Hindu garb as Vishnu, and Artie, in his wheelchair, supported the extra arms for the god. However, one of the aids in the class, with a rather large rear end, bumped into Artie's chair during the presentation, pushing him forward and sending Finn into Quinn, who was reading some ancient Hindu scripture about Vishnu in front of Finn-as-Vishnu, which ultimately sent Quinn face first into the plate of "Saffron Yoghurt" that I had made. Of course, Quinn screamed, blamed me, and stormed out of the classroom. It was quite a scene.

"And the screech she made when she surfaced? Priceless!" I say through giggles, trying my hardest not to snort.

"I know! I'm kind of glad it happened. She was being real stuck up that day and needed a good wake up call," Finn says, laughing as well

Right now, we've moved to the shallow end. It's much more comfortable to talk here than in the deep end, but what I'm about to say will make things very _un_comfortable.

"I think she _still_ needs a good wake up call."

Finn opens his mouth, like he's about to reply, but is saved when the door to the house slams open. A mixture of hands and legs and bodies walk, or grope, really, onto the patio, heading in the direction of the pool house. I think I see Santana's ponytail, and Puck's unmistakable mohawk. They seem to be making out, hard-core.

Puck comes up for a second and looks around. I'm absolutely flabbergasted, and a little embarrassed, but all I can do is stare. Puck seems to see us, double takes, and breaks the kiss, asking Finn, "Dude, what the hell are you doing? All the action's inside."

"Puck?" Santana asks.

"Yeah?"

"Do you _want_ me to walk away right now? 'Cause I will," she replies firmly, and Puck quickly resumes kissing her. They continue their journey to the pool house, which I will never _ever_ set foot in for as long as I live.

"Well, I know who's getting some tonight," Finn says disdainfully as the door to the pool house closes. He must have watched the whole thing in bewilderment as well.

"Do you really think so?" I ask timidly. Sex is a strange and foreign topic for me.

"Yeah. But it's not his first time, so no biggie."

What? "No biggie? Sexual intercourse is a big breakthrough in adolescent development. Don't you think Santana will want to wait until the whole ordeal is meaningful to her?"

"Uh, no?"

"Do you even know what I just said?"

"No."

Great. I've confused him again. "Basically, I'm wondering if you think Santana would want to wait for sex until it means something to her," I sigh.

"Oh, definitely not. Yeah, she's your average slut."

"Oh." We sit in silence for a while. Was Finn coming into the pool a mistake? I can't help but wonder why he'd want to come talk to me. I mean, I'm a social pariah. He's got a billion friends. Maybe he's treating me like a charity case? Great. _No, Rachel_, I tell myself, _don't think like that._

"I just can't even believe she's progressed that far in her life already."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she's obviously already been kissed. That's a lot farther than many kids go at this age, right?"

"Um, no. I mean, a lot of people have gone farther than that in our class."

"Oh." Of course. "I guess I'm just the odd one out, like usual."

"Wait, you've never been kissed?" Finn looks stunned. I don't see why – it's not too hard to wrap your mind around the fact that the most disliked person in your grade has never been kissed.

"No. Not many guys go out of their way to talk me, never mind kiss me. Have you?"

Again, Finn seems stunned. For an instant, I consider the possibility that he's never been kissed either… no. It doesn't seem possible. He's been to a billion parties, I bet, where girls either from our school or other schools were just itching to get their filthy, pink-fingernailed-hands on him. Of course he's been kissed before.

"Well, um, not really," Finn says hesitantly. "No, I've never been kissed."

Wait, what?

Finn? Never been kissed? _He's lying_, I think. But then I study his face. He's being really obviously honest. Besides, why would he lie about that? Most guys would lie about _being _ kissed rather than not. But, why not? I know at least five girls, not including myself, that would line up outside his house to pay him ten dollars just to kiss him. No joke.

"Wow," is all I can say.

"Well, you haven't been kissed before either!"

"No, no no no! That's not what I meant!" I reply. And then I start laughing.

"Thanks, Rachel," he says sarcastically. "I thought you were different." Finn makes to leave the pool, when I reach for his wrist and hold it.

Did I just do that?

Am I not supposed to do that?

Regardless if I'm allowed to stop him, he hesitates.

"No, Finn, I _am_ different. That's why you don't talk to me much anymore, remember?" This knocks Finn out of his anger. "I was just shocked because there are a lot of girls that would die and come back to life just to kiss you." The bemused look on my face that I'm sure is there seems to relieve Finn, and all he can say is "Oh."

"Yeah."

He comes back and sits with me for a little bit. I'm about to ask him why he's never been kissed when he says quietly, "That sort of thing, y'know, kissing, makes me way too nervous to even consider it. So I just avoid it or something."

I'm blown away. I haven't heard Finn talk about his feelings _ever_, and he certainly wouldn't share them with me, under normal circumstances. I wonder what's so different about tonight?

"Sometimes," Finn begins again, slowly, "I wish that getting your first kiss wasn't such a big deal. I mean, what does it really have to do with anything else in your life?"

"You're right. And then again, there are the times I wish I could just get it over with, you know?" Those times where I wish I could get it over with are _many_.

We sigh in unison, which I almost giggle at. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he replies.

"Rachel?" he says after a little while later. His voice is low and soft, almost embarrassed. I don't think I've ever experienced Timid Finn before, but I kind of like it.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think it would be crazy if we, you know, just got it over with right now?"

"Got what over with?" I'm being so mean. Of course I know what he's talking about, but I want to keep him talking. He sounds as amazing as he looks right now, and I could just stay here, in this wonderful pool, underneath this wonderful night sky, for forever.

"You know," Finn replies slowly. I just shake my head, repressing the urge to laugh. Finally, he just gives up and sighs, "The kiss, Rachel. Get our first kiss over with right now."

The stars are spinning out of control. The water I'm in is heating up and freezing rapidly. Finn just suggested that we kiss. I'm blissfully content.

I pretend to think about it for a moment, though I've already made up my mind, say, "No, I don't think that would be crazy." I can practically feel my heart beating right out of my chest. "You don't mind that for the rest of your life, you'll remember that your first kiss was with me, though, do you?"

Finn pauses, and for a second I think he's reconsidering. No no no… please don't say yes.

"No. You don't mind that yours will be with me, right?" he replies. I could hug him.

"No. Not at all." Thank goodness for my excellent acting skills, or I'd have a horrible poker face.

"Okay then. Let's get this thing over with."

I could scream. We both lean towards each other. _I can't believe I'm going to have my first kiss with FINN HUDSON!_ I almost slip on the bottom of the pool. _He's so dreamy, I could just die._ Our faces are about three inches away from each other when Finn says, "Wait."

"What's wrong?" I ask. I knew this was far too good to be true. Of course he's going to bail on me. Why would he want to kiss me? I'm far too obnoxiously talented and different and –

"I have hot dog breath."

Really?

I look into his eyes, smile, and close the gap.

-~:~-

It was short and sweet. Nothing hasty, no roughhousing, nothing unnecessary. It was perfect.

Until…

"FINN! WE'RE LEAVING!" a shrill voice yells.

"'Kay, Mom, be right there!" Finn yells back. He gives me a guilty smile. "Uh, thanks. A lot."

"Sure," I reply, a little breathless.

He rubs the back of his head, still smiling, but faltering a little. "Rachel, I really hate to say this, but, um…"

"It's okay," I say. Of course things will go back to normal. But tonight was magical, and I couldn't have asked for anything more. "I completely understand." I give him a sweet smile.

"Thanks." He turns to leave, and then the unimaginable: he comes back over to me and gives me another short, sweet kiss on the cheek.

"'Bye," he says, a sort of wistful look on his face, and I wave.

-~:~-

"_Tonight, tonight, it all began tonight…" – Maria, West Side Story_

**A/N: The end! ^This song was stuck in my head the whole time… it fits, right?^ Anyways, thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited and alerted this fic – it means so much to me to know that people actually like what I'm writing! Yay for everyone! Thanks again! – littlefish :) **


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